Conversational Values
by Devin Trinidad
Summary: AU-In which the children at the daycare plan a secret something and Pitch Black wants to engage in civil conversation. *Sequel to Old School Christmas*


"Alright, comrades. Here's plan. We sneak—"

"Pfft, Nik, we should just do it now without planning."

"But Jack, we can't just—"

"Look, you bludgers, I say we follow Nik's tactics for once."

"As if I'll ever do that."

"All this for the sake of cookies, our mouths will rot!"

"Look Princess, we get the munchies and you can school us later, right mates?"

The two teachers on break did not hear the conversation between the four daycare students. However, seeing that at least one of them had eagle eyes, Pitch could clearly see that they were planning something. With these thoughts in mind, the Brit tried to ignore the misfits in favor for conversing with his colleague.

He wasn't a bad man. No, not even by a long shot. Pitch Black in all his cold hearted mercilessness, was just, for the lack of a better word, cold. Of course, being such a good person he was, he felt the need to engage in everyday trivial matters. So, as he sipped the blasted American coffee, he began to speak in a conversational (read: borderline awkward) tone of voice.

"So, the weather's quite dreary as of late, is it not?" The dark haired man glowered as he realized that he had unwittingly embraced the humdrum life of conversation. He had just asked about the weather for crying out loud!

Sandy simply shrugged as he added a few teaspoons worth of sugar into his coffee. Finding that the amount was sufficient to suit his tastes, the sandy haired individual slurped without hesitation. Not only that, but the exotic man also dunked a chocolate chip cookie into his coffee, splattering a mess all over the immaculate table. Disgusted by the childish display his coworker had put on, Pitch made a face. No, not the stick-out-your-tongue-and-be-childish type face, but an adult one. He just glowered. It didn't look good either.

"Goodness! You act more childish than that Frost!" Much as Pitch would have liked to scream that Sandy had disgraced the whole of human civilization, he did not want to risk arousing the predatory instincts of _them._

_Them _being those bratty kids who happened to be enrolled in the blasted daycare center. The British man had half a mind to pinch the bridge of his nose, but he didn't want to show his dear colleague that he was very close to breaking.

Sandy mimed jolly laughter by heaving his shoulders back and forth and having his face look very, very, very happy. He even had tears streaming down his round face for good measure.

"Laugh now, Sanderson," Pitch growled as he glared at the pure blackness of his undiluted coffee. "But when you finally decompose of sugary sweetness, guess who'll be laughing?"

The tanned dwarf merely looked at him unconcernedly before shaking his head, making his already unruly locks appear even more spiky than usual. Clearly he was saying, _Now, who would laugh at my expense?_

"I will be laughing, dear Sanderson! I will!"

"What is joke, Pitch?" A heavily Russian accented voice could be heard. It was Nikolai, dressed in a red sweater and tan slacks. It was strongly reminiscent of St. Nicholas, but Pitch wasn't going to enforce his beliefs about the yearly flight of the fat man.

"His abusing of the privilege of sugar and other dietary supplements," Pitch muttered angrily. Even though he lived to see the fear on children's faces, he really did not want to explain to Nikolai what death was.

"What do you mean, 'abusing the privilege of sugar!'" A chipper voice butted in rudely. "Is it bad? Does he need to go to the hospital? Oh, no! It's worse! The dentist! We need—"

"Ariadne," Pitch gritted out as he mentally overcame the urge to burn himself with coffee," its nothing exceptional to think about."

"But what about—"

"Who said something about eggs!"

Oh, great. The fairy tale princess and the down under explorer were here to intrude upon his conversation with Sandy. Pitch sighed as he warily observed the fanny pack of eggs that Joey held. If three-fourths of the ragtag team were here, then—

"He said exceptional, you stupid kangaroo!" A little boy, no older than five with dark brunette hair, spoke up.

"Nuh-uh, he said eggs," Joey retorted. "And don't call me a kangaroo! I'm proud to be called Joey!"

"Look," the Brit tiredly began," Jack's right—as much as I hate to admit it, I did say—"

"See? The great Joey isn't so egg-ceptional, is he?" The frosty clothed boy—seriously, his parents must let him sleep in the snow to get that icy look—began laughing and teasing his senior.

"Are eggs good for your teeth," Ariadne asked hesitantly, as she somewhat picked up on the Englishman's mood.

"Not if they're chocolate." The dark haired male kept his eye on the two boys, making sure that their petty bickering escalated to full blown fighting. Nikolai, on the other hand, was busy talking with Sandy to take notice of his surroundings. Why were the rest of these nutjobs given to me, Pitch thought miserably as he tried to answer Ariadne's questions in stride and spot any bombs from detonating.

"Shut your mouth, Yank," Joey grumbled as he reflexively pulled out a plastic egg. It was painted in intricate designs from the art set given to him on Christmas.

"Why should I? My mouth is egg-eptional…"

"Your breath smells bad!"

"Jackson Overland Frost! Joseph Ethan Aster!" Pitch hotly intervened." I bet neither of you know what exceptional means, do you?"

"'Course, you Sheila! It means eggs in British speak," the black haired boy spoke up confidently.

"No, it means—"

"Comrades, time to destroy the boogeyman!" Nikolai abruptly left his conversation with Sandy and turned to his friends.

"Come now, I haven't explained—"

"CHARGE!"

Pitch was instantly ambushed with egg bombs, wooden toy soldiers, stuffed hummingbirds, and he was hit on the head with a broomstick.

"THE COOKIES ARE OURS!" They all whooped with war cries as they descended upon the table. As fast they came, they all disappeared from the adult's meeting place and back to the classroom.

"…You could have just asked," Pitch whimpered.

As he lay there, moaning with great contempt, Sandy sauntered towards him. With mute laughter, he helped the much taller man up on his feet. His golden brown eyes seemed to say, _What happened to our insightful conversation?_

"No, Sandy," Pitch grumbled as he nursed his now cold coffee," I will not."

* * *

**All right guys, since I received a lot of attention on the other fic, I decided to make a sequel. If I get a lot of reviews on this one, would you like to see another holiday addition? Like, per se, Valentines Day? If I do that, I might make a mini-series with all the holidays, seeing that I did start on Christmas. So what do you ankle biters say? To be, or not to be. That is the question.**


End file.
